Dancing With Defiance in Orlando, but Gay Clubs and Bars Feel ‘Eerie’

ORLANDO, Fla. — They came for the flashing neon lights, hip-swiveling tunes, cocktails and glitzy drag queens. Some arrived with a sense of purpose and defiance, to show that everything is going to be all right, to remember the loved ones they lost. Others just wanted to move on.

This city of fun and fantasy is gingerly plodding back into its night life scene this weekend, the first since 49 people were killed on Latin night at Pulse a week ago. The mass shooting rocked the gay and Latino communities here, and has left the entire city grappling with the odd emotion of doing the exact thing that the victims were doing before the carnage began in the early hours of last Sunday.

But they did not come in their usual numbers, and many of those who did turned out with a newfound wariness. Where are the emergency exits? Who is that coming through the door? What is in that backpack?

“Eerie,” Jonathan Arroyo said Friday night as neon lights bounced off his face next to the white banquettes at Southern Nights, a popular gay club.

Mr. Arroyo unfolded a receipt from his jean shorts: a $26.75 tab from Pulse, timestamped only about 30 minutes before the shooting began about 2 a.m. It reminds him to appreciate life, and on his first time at a club since the shooting, he took in the light, playful atmosphere — people drinking, dancing, having fun.

“How it felt that night,” he said, clutching a plastic cup of Hennessy, “I’m not going to let something like that mess up my routine.”

The truth, however, is that nothing is back to normal for the emotionally worn population here. Mr. Arroyo, 29, and several others said they had taken note of the exit signs in the bars and clubs for the first time. They had discussed emergency plans with friends.

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Brandon Elder, a patron at Savoy on Friday night, showed a tattoo of the words “One Pulse” that he had gotten only that day.CreditHilary Swift for The New York Times

A patron at the Stonewall, a gay bar here, related an incident he had witnessed earlier in the evening at another night spot, Savoy. When a man wearing a backpack entered Savoy, three patrons at the bar quickly took notice. The owner darted after the newcomer, with a police officer bolting across the room, too. It took only a second to determine that he was just a guy with a knapsack.

But this is the reality now. The music played and the drinks were served, but people wondered whether things would ever be the same again.

“It was just a moment,” said Ray Christianna, 57, one of the patrons at the practically empty upstairs bar at Stonewall. “It was that kind of moment.”

His friend David Kinnamon, 51, added: “Every time the door opened, you thought, ‘Who’s coming in?’ This is going to take a while.”

The Orlando Police Department would not say whether it was taking extra precautions for the weekend, but security definitely appeared beefed up at late-night spots.

Private security guards in front of Southern Nights frisked patrons with all the invasiveness of a root canal. They rummaged through receipts and cash tucked into wallets, opened sunglasses cases, and patted down armpits, backs and ankles. A police squad car sat parked next to a late-night hot-dog stand.

Uniformed officers were stationed in front of the Parliament House, a gay hotel and bar. Security personnel at the door said that undercover officers were among the crowd.

Inside, the D.J., Daniel Borrero, spun tribal progressive house music. Next to a pool in the courtyard, a crush of people hooted at drag queens performing under spotlights in a benefit for the victims of the Pulse shooting.

“There are people talking about going back into the closet,” said Kenya Nott, 25, one of the Parliament House revelers. “But this is the time when we should explode out of it.”

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As at other venues in the city, security was increased at Southern Nights on Friday.CreditHilary Swift for The New York Times

In a few downtown blocks tightly packed with nightspots, music vibrated onto the streets and people flowed through by the dozens. But the scene was much tamer than normal.

“Literally half,” Mickey Gannett, manager of the Independent Bar, said, scoping out North Orange Avenue. His sales were down 50 percent. “We were open last night, and there were people sitting at the bar crying. I think it will be one or two more months before things are back to normal.”

One80 Skytop, a rooftop club and lounge, drew about a quarter of its normal crowd for Latin night on Friday. With the glimmer of the downtown skyline peering from just over One80’s parapet, Stephanie Giraldo, 21, sat on a wicker couch mugging for selfies in a black dress and red lipstick. Her friends danced around her. Though not closely connected to any of the shooting victims, she said the massacre pained her. But she said she did not want to let fear control her city.

“Rumor has been going around — stay away from the clubs, stay away from the theme parks,” she said. “What am I going to do? Stay home and reminisce about what happened?”

For those who are gay or deeply embedded in the community, their presence on the town on Friday night seemed to have more of a political and prideful resonance.

“My kids didn’t want me to come, but I had to,” Yesenia Rivera, 34, a former Pulse hostess, said at Southern Nights. “This is my family.”

There was, however, real ambivalence.

“We have to go to funerals tomorrow,” Leo Dominique, 34, said at the Savoy, where people passed out rainbow ribbons and showed off fresh tattoos dedicated to Pulse.

It is a place of therapy, really. Here, regulars gather several nights a week to hash out the details of breakups, celebrate job promotions and pick up potential dates. They tried to do the same on Friday night.

“I’m afraid to go anywhere else, but I’m never afraid to come here and see my friends,” said Darius Jones, 26. “It’s not more safe here than anywhere else, but it feels like it is. And — this is very morbid — but if I’m going to get shot, I’d rather be here with my friends at a place that I can call home.”

Julie Turkewitz and Les Neuhaus contributed reporting.

A version of this article appears in print on , on Page A20 of the New York edition with the headline: A Quiet Night Out, but Clubs Feel ‘Eerie’. Order Reprints | Today’s Paper | Subscribe